


The Drawer

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [25]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward First Times, Ben Can’t Find A Clit, But Rey Will Show Him, Established Relationship, F/M, Loss of Virginity, New Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Virgin Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: He’s such a creep— for rifling through her things like this.But this drawer was hanging open and there was a flash of hot pinksomethingand okay— maybe he’d gotten a little curious.He wishes he hadn’t.He’s supposed to see her tonight— something he’d been looking forward to about ten minutes ago— but now he’s positivelyterrified.In which Ben finds Rey’sspecialdrawer.





	The Drawer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/gifts), [Whybecrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whybecrude/gifts).



> I was tossed two equally wonderful prompts last night by two of my favorite people so I mashed them together and made this monstrosity of awkward porn. I love you ladies!

* * *

 

“Holy fucking shit.”

He’s such a creep— for rifling through her things like this.

 _But to be fair,_ his brain argues, _the drawer was already open. It’s not as if you went_ looking.

He thinks maybe his brain is creepier than he is.

He and Rey have only been dating for a a few weeks, and while he’s been in her room before— he’s _never_ been in here without her.

A textbook. He was lending her a textbook. A perfectly acceptable reason to be in her room.

But this drawer was hanging open and there was a flash of hot pink _something_ and okay— maybe he’d gotten a little curious.

He wishes he hadn’t.

Rey has… an _extensive_ collection of sex toys. Some of them Ben isn’t even sure what they’re _used_ for. He runs a finger over the pink monstrosity that currently holds his attention— _is it bigger than him?—_ and his heart rate picks up a little because _holy fucking shit_ this has been inside her.

 _He_ hasn’t even been inside her.

Ben hasn’t been inside _anyone_ to be fair— but that’s besides the point. He’d been hoping maybe he might change that with Rey— the sweet math major that he’s been pining after for _months_ only to find that _somehow_ she likes him too and everything has been so _perfect_ but there’s practically a _sex_ dungeon in her drawer and he’s _sweating_ a little and—

He slams the drawer roughly— dropping the textbook on her dresser and high-tailing it out of her room and the tiny bungalow she and her roommate Rose share.

He’s supposed to see her tonight— something he’d been looking forward to about ten minutes ago— but now he’s positively _terrified._

_Holy fucking shit._

* * *

Even hours later— he is still plagued by the contents of _the drawer—_ as he’s taken to referring to it. He’d almost called off this entire date, but what actual reason did he have to do so?

_I’m sorry, Rey, but actually I’ve never fucked a woman and this is the first time we’ve been alone in your house and you’re keeping Goliath’s dick mold in your bedside table so actually I’ll need to reschedule._

Right.

So here he is on her front porch— coated in far more deodorant than is humanly necessary— chewing on his lower lip as he waits for her to answer.

When she opens— he finds himself distracted momentarily because _how_ is she so _pretty_ and _why_ does she like _him?_ But she’s smiling in that way she does when she sees him— and for whatever reason— he knows she does. Even if it baffles him.

She moves aside to let him in, and he tries to keep his thoughts far away from her bedroom and the demented treasure trove residing within.

He tries to distract himself by focusing on her instead. “How was work?”

She shrugs. “Boring.” She leans into him then, pressing up on her toes and _fuck_ he’ll never get tired of the way her lips feel against his. “Thinking about seeing you got me through it.”

He has to swallow a groan when her arms loop around his neck and her tongue sweeps into his mouth— pulling her tighter against him because she’s so _soft_ and her fingers in his hair are _fantastic_ and he’s—

Anxiety is a funny thing. Like a termite— always burrowing it’s way in where it doesn’t belong and making tunnels so deep that you don’t even realize the damage until the roof is collapsing.

Because he remembers then— even if he doesn’t want to— he remembers.

He tries to steer the evening somewhere safer. “Did you want to watch a movie?”

He’s peeling her away from him— even as he’s distracted by the fluttering of her eyelashes or the way she’s pouting a little bit and he _knows_ how she must imagine this night is going to end but he’s still so _daunted_ by the dildo-palooza she’s keeping in her bedroom.

“Oh,” she shrugs. “Yeah. Sure.”

He knows inviting him over to watch a movie had probably been a pretense— that she’s been hinting for a week now how much she couldn’t wait to spend some _alone_ time with him— but he just needs a little more time to collect himself. To convince himself that he’s not going to fuck all of this up.

She pushes past him into the living room— flopping down in front of the entertainment center to pick through a few stray DVDs. She holds one out to him— Ben barely glancing at the title before nodding fervently because it doesn’t really matter what she puts in— he’s not going to be able to pay attention to it.

She snuggles up next to him on the couch when the opening credits begin to play— some period piece with a regal older woman explaining the significance of some painting.

“Is this about Cinderella?”

Her fingers trail over his shirt. “Sort of.”

He’s trying very hard to appear interested. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“I’ve seen it a thousand times.” Her fingers push down his sternum— teasing the top of his abdomen. “To be honest though… I didn’t _actually_ want to watch a movie tonight.”

He doesn’t _mean_ to hold his breath— but now her fingers trail just under the hem of his t-shirt, and he’s never been as _nervous_ and _excited_ as he is right now.

“You didn’t?” His damn voice _sounds_ like him— if he’d spent the night in a helium factory, that is. “W-what did you want to do?”

She doesn’t answer— looking up at him with a sly grin before she pushes up to meet his mouth. His eyes close at the feel of it— soft and warm and _her_ and her hand rests against his abs now and it’s _moving_ and—

“Rey,” he manages roughly. “We don’t have to—”

She pulls back, looking a little worried. “You don’t want to?”

“ _Of course_ I do—” Because he's been thinking about this for _months._ “But I—”

She doesn’t let him finish— shuffling around until she is situating herself over his lap and smoothing her hands over his chest. The soft cotton of her shorts inches up around her thighs— leaving enough skin on display to make him swallow his tongue.

“You’re so sweet,” she hums, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. “But you don’t have to be sweet tonight.”

She pulls it over her head— leaving her in nothing but a blush bralette that leaves _nothing_ to the imagination— and Ben feels like he _actually_ can’t breathe. He’s staring at her chest— unable to tear his gaze away from the dusky peaks of her nipples through the thin lace.

His hands find her waist of their own accord— the sight of his hands nearly encompassing the entire width of her enough to make his chest tight.

She pitches forward— her hips rolling against his as she nips at his lower lip— the heat of her core against his cock evident even though the denim.

His fingers are tight at her hips— unsure of what to do with them. “ _Rey.”_

“You can touch me,” she urges, reaching for his hands and sliding them over her ribs to settle over her breasts. “ _Please_ , touch me.”

His thumb brushes along the hardened point of her nipple— enjoying the the way she shivers at his touch. He does it again— marveling at the reactions _he’s_ causing her to have.

He’s desperately trying to seem as if he’s done this before— trying not to seem too eager, too lost— even if he _absolutely_ is. He leans in as if led by instinct— heart pounding in his ears as he presses his tongue to the lace to trace the shape of the taut bud underneath.

Her fingers find his hair, and she _likes_ this, he realizes. He thinks he can work with that. He wraps his lips around it— sucking softly as she tugs at the loose strands her fingers are wrapped around, and her hips are still _moving_ and she’s making some tiny _sound_ now and he just wants her to keep _doing_ it.

He’s doing well, he thinks. Remarkably well— considering there’s still a considerable girth of pink silicone lingering at the back of his mind. But she grabs his hand again— and she’s tugging it to the waistband of her shorts— and his brain _might_ be short-circuiting because _this_ leads to _that._

His mouth isn’t moving against her anymore— holding his breath as his fingers slip under her shorts and she releases his hand and he just _sits_ there because he isn’t sure what to do. But she tilts her hips, and he takes her cue, and he dips underneath the thin fabric of her underwear and then it is only _warm_ and _wet_ and he’s still _holding his breath._

She rocks against his hand, and he presses his fingers through her folds— exploring the heat of her. Everything is just so _wet—_ everything feeling much the same as he rubs at her center. He knows what he’s looking for— trying to locate it with his fingers but everything is just so _wet_ and she’s tugged him up to _kiss_ him now and it only makes it _harder_ to concentrate.

_Where the fuck is it?_

She’s moving her hips to guide him— her tongue slowing every few seconds against his as if concentrating herself. With every second that passes it is more evident just how hopeless this all is.

 _Goddamnit, Ben,_ his traitorous brain thinks. _I bet that damned thing in her drawer never gave her this much trouble._

She’s shifting now— clearly confused by his lack of any sort of skill or even basic sense of direction, and when she breaks away— he feels panic welling in his chest.

“Is everything—” She’s giving him a very confused look and his damned hand is still down her shorts and he sort of wants to die right now. “Is everything okay?”

He could scream right now.

The _literal_ girl of his dreams is sprawled over his lap and he can’t even reap the benefits of a high-school level sex education class.

“You seem nervous,” she continues. “Ben, if you don’t want to do this— I don’t want to pressure you— I’m really sorry if I—”

“No. _No.”_ He wrenches his hand from her shorts, covering his face and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’m sorry. _Fuck._ I’m ruining this.”

“Hey,” she soothes, pulling his hands away from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Rey, there’s—” He swallows. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet.”

She cocks an eyebrow, looking wary. “Okay?”

“Listen, it’s not _weird,”_ he huffs defensively for his own benefit. “I just— I didn’t have a lot of time for socializing in high school— and I was always worried about my scholarship— and I just never had time to—”

Her eyebrows shoot up— her fingers moving to silence him as they cover his mouth. “Ben, are you— are you trying to tell me you’re a—”

He doesn’t break her gaze as he nods, trying to keep the embarrassment from his expression. Her eyes soften then, and he’s afraid it’s pity he sees there. He tries to look away.

She pulls his face back. “Hey,” she says quietly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _embarrassing,”_ he mutters indignantly. “I don’t even know— can’t even find your—” He clears his throat. “It’s embarrassing.”

He doesn’t expect the way she smiles at him— not like she’s laughing at him but just in that same way she always does— like she _likes_ him.

“Then I’ll just have to show you.”

His mouth falls open, but she’s already moving to stand— tugging him up from the couch and leading him to her bedroom. All at once he’s reminded of the _other_ source of his nerves tonight, and when she pulls him inside her room— he can’t help the way his eyes flick to _the drawer._

He tries not to let his thoughts linger on it as she pushes him against her bed— as he falls to sit and she pushes him to his back. She crawls over him to kiss him, and it’s _so good_ and she’s _so warm_ but what if he’s terrible at this?

“You’re still nervous,” she murmurs against his mouth.

“What if I disappoint you?” He hates that he sounds petulant.

“ _Ben,”_ she chides. “Why would you think that?”

He doesn’t me to let his eyes flick to _the drawer—_ shrugging his shoulders even as her eyes follows the line of his gaze and she looks back at him with a curious expression.

She raises an eyebrow. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

His mouth opens and closes, giving another shrug as he avoids looking at her.

“ _Ben.”_

“ _Okay,”_ he relents. “Look, it was an accident.”

She chuckles a little. “What did you do?”

“I was _just_ coming by to drop off the textbook you needed— and it was open a little— and I didn’t _mean_ to snoop but it was _right there—”_

 _“Ben,”_ she says tersely. “Spit it out.”

“I saw inside your drawer.”

“My drawer?”

“ _The_ drawer,” he huffs.

She turns her head to look at the little shop of horrors in question, looking back at him with amusement, much to his amazement. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

He blows out a breath, feeling silly. “One of them is _huge.”_

She actually _laughs—_ rolling her hips against his cock that is still _remarkably_ hard through this humiliating endeavor. “I have a feeling you’re doing all right yourself.”

He whimpers a little as she continues to rub against him— her head dipping to leave a lingering kiss at his mouth before she pulls away to look at him again. “Actually…”

She rolls off of him, sidling up the bed to brace herself against the headboard. She gives him a coy look— reaching into _the drawer_ and fishing out the pink terror he’s been thinking about all fucking day.

“What are you—”

She crooks her finger. “Come here.”

He crawls over to her cautiously— eyes widening as she drops the silicone rod to the bedspread and reaches for her shorts. She rolls them off— taking her underwear right along with them and then there is _nothing_ as she spreads her thighs invitingly.

He can’t tear his eyes away— her cunt looking soft and pink and _so wet_ and he has to palm his cock roughly through the denim of his jeans just to keep from going off at the sight of her.

She reaches for the significant pink length that rests against her bedspread, grabbing for his hand and depositing it there. Her fingers enclose over his— guiding them to the power switch and thumbing it on as it begins to hum in his hand.

She leaves it to him— reaching instead between her legs to run two fingers through her slit lazily.

“I want you to use it on me.”

He can hear blood rushing in his ears as he chokes out, “What?”

“Just a warm up,” she croons. “Call it practice.”

“But I don’t—”

Her fingers find his nape as she tugs him over her— crushing her mouth to his as her free hand finds his wrist. She guides him between her legs— the rounded head of vibrating silicone sliding between her folds as her breath catches.

Oh _._

He breaks away to look between them— running it experimentally through her slit as she gasps softly all over again.

He licks his lips that are suddenly dry. “Tell me— tell me where—”

Her hand slides lower— spreading herself apart as she gestures to a slightly darker little nub that rests just at the apex. His eyes widen with understanding— pressing the thrumming head there as she makes some desperate sound with the contact of it.

_Oh._

He rolls the rounded end around— watching her squirming grow in intensity as her face screws tight and her breath grows shallow.

He frantically flicks his gaze between her face and her cunt— wanting to take in _everything_ because is this how she does it when she’s alone? Or does she—

He drags the device lower— pressing it to the slicked hole just below and he sees her tug her lip between her teeth as he presses there.

_“Ben.”_

He is torn between wanting to toss the thing away to press inside her himself and being transfixed by the sight of her body stretching around the soft silicone as he presses it inside. He gives a shallow thrust— barely pushing it past the head before pulling it out to see the way her body has left it shiny and slick with her fluids.

He brings it back to her clit— finding it easily now and rubbing at it with quick strokes that pull soft whimpers from her.

“That’s it,” she encourages. “Just like that.” Her thighs tense as she shakes just a little— and his breath leaves his nostrils in ragged expels. “ _Right there.”_

He presses hard— watching her mouth fall open and her eyes screw closed and her back is _arching_ and her body is _trembling_ and—

He isn’t really nervous anymore.

He doesn’t really have the room to think about anything else than what she looks like when she comes.

 _She’s_   _beautiful._

He wants to make her do it again. On his _own._

He flicks the vibrator off and aside— hearing it give a soft _thud,_ but it barely registers because her fingers are at his jeans as she wrenches then apart to push them down his thighs. He’s kissing her with everything he has— scrambling to rid himself of his shirt and her bra and _everything_ until it’s just their skin and her warmth and it’s still so _wet_ as his naked cock slides through her folds.

“What about a—”

“Implant,” she whispers breathlessly. “It’s fine.”

“And you’re sure you—”

“ _Ben.”_

He doesn’t need anymore convincing.

He presses up on his hands— furrowing his brow as he dips his hips in search where he needs to be— biting his lip in concentration because _this is no different_ he tells himself. It’s not different than the toy. He can do this.

When he finally catches her entrance with the head of his cock and begins to ease inside— he finds he’s absolutely wrong.

It’s _entirely_ different.

He can feel every slick ridge of her— every heated grip of her insides and he’s only eased the _head_ in.

“Oh _God,_ Ben,” she groans.

That’s good— right? He tells himself it has to be.

He’s gritting his teeth in concentration— trying to hold back the hot release that is _begging_ to be let out— shutting his eyes only to reopen them because he wants to _see_ this part.

It looks so similar to the toy he realizes— the way her little hole swallows him up. The way her body stretches around him.  A quick glance at her face reveals _that_ seems similar too— as if both give her equal enjoyment.

And she _really_ seems to be enjoying it— if her sounds are any indication.

_Hold it in._

It feels like hours— before there is nothing left to give her. Before everything he has is rooted deep inside her and she’s tugging him back down to kiss her and her legs wrap around him and this is somehow _everything_ he’d thought it would be while also being _astronomically_ better.

_“Rey.”_

It’s all he can really manage right now— with her cunt and her legs and her mouth branded to him as they are.

He feels her hand sliding down her belly— and a flick of his eyes reveals her fingers sliding just above where they’re joined to rub at her clit.

It might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen— her fingers at her clit while his cock stretches her just below.

“I want to come with you inside me,” she tells him breathily. “You feel so _good_ , Ben.”

_You feel so good, Ben._

He could _absolutely_ come just from that.

But he won’t.

He’s determined not to.

He pulls out slowly, _testingly—_ his mouth hanging open because her body _clings_ to him like it doesn’t want him to leave and it’s so _tight_ inside her and he’s barely out of her for a _second_ before he’s pushing back inside.

“ _Fuck_.”

He’s not even sure which of them said it. Her fingers still work at her clit— working a steady rhythm as he begins to try to find a rhythm of his own.

It’s only slightly awkward— Ben concentrating on ridiculous things like _don’t fall out_ and _for the love of God, don’t come yet._ Only it’s getting harder— both his will to hang on and his cock that is overwhelmed with sensation— and he has to shut his eyes as he pushes into her now because it’s _so fucking good_ and he just wants to _hang on._

“I’m close,” she breathes. “I’m _so_ close.”

He is so _overwhelmed—_ and he can feel that hot pressure building— threatening to spill outwards and bring all of this to an end. His breathing is erratic now— and he’s making sounds he doesn’t think he’s ever made before but she’s murmuring breathless encouragement about how he feels good and how she loves this and it’s enough— it’s just enough.

But he doesn’t make it in the end.

Her cunt cinches around him and it takes him by surprise and he’s grunting as he gushes into her and his body is _shuddering_ and her hand is still _working_ and—

His cock is still twitching heavily inside her when he feels it.

Like convulsion almost— a sporadic gripping of her inner walls that _squeeze_ and _tug_ and he thought perhaps he didn’t have anymore to give but as she _trembles_ around him there is a fresh wave of warmth that floods from him and he groans into her hair as he pulls her close.

“I’d say you did okay,” she laughs softly sometime after, her hand stroking between his shoulder blades pleasantly.

He pushes up to look at her nervously. “I did?”

She laughs a little harder. “ _Ben._ That was fucking _amazing_.”

He grins— feeling a strange sense of pride in his chest that is probably a lingering attachment to the days when men were still celebrating fire— but it doesn’t even matter because _she’s_ smiling now and when he leans to kiss her she makes such a _content_ sound and he thinks maybe he never had anything to worry about. Not with her.

She’s still grinning when she pulls away— her lips curled in a coy smile. “I don’t even think I’ll need my drawer anymore.” He feels his cock twitch with renewed interest inside her— and he hopes to all that’s holy that he will be able to have her again before he leaves here. She turns then to glance at the pink monstrosity that still rests near the end of her bed— chuckling softly. “Well,” she teases, “maybe we can keep one.”

He wonders if it’s too soon to tell her he’s hopelessly in love with her.

She leans up to capture his mouth— her hips shifting as his eyes close and he can feel the way he’s growing hard inside her all over again and _no,_ he thinks.

It can wait.

For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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